


All I Want For Christmas

by ouiser_boudreaux



Series: Tasertricks Holiday One-Shots [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouiser_boudreaux/pseuds/ouiser_boudreaux
Summary: Darcy's rigged up a special Secret Santa, and she can't wait to see what a certain trickster can come up with to give her.





	All I Want For Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ipomoea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipomoea/gifts).



> This started as drabbles based on lyrics to my favorite (unconventional) Christmas songs, took a hard left into smut town, and here we are. Song lyrics are in bold and identified at the end.

**Peace on Earth, can it be?**

"I'm going to kill you, Lewis!"

Loki didn't even bother to look up when Darcy came careening into the kitchen. He did flinch imperceptibly when she dove down and scrambled into the cabinet next to the bar stool where he was perched. He twitched his foot to close the cabinet door the rest of the way just as Tony came running in. "I'm afraid she's not in here, Stark."

Tony narrowed his eyes at Loki and slowly circled the massive island. Satisfied that Stark Tower's resident troublemaker wasn't being sheltered by its resident reluctant ally, he headed to the elevator. "If you see her, Reindeer Games, tell her that Bowie and Bing was a downright dirty trick to pull. And it's not even December."

Loki sipped his black coffee. "I understood maybe three words of that, but I'll do my best to relay the message." The elevator doors closed and Loki pulled the cabinet open. "Did that make any sense to you?"

Darcy crawled out, stood, and stretched. "Little Drummer Boy Challenge."

"I beg your pardon?"

Darcy poured herself a mug of coffee and went to the fridge in search of cream. "From Black Friday to Christmas Eve, you try to avoid hearing 'The Little Drummer Boy.' Tony set up a betting pool this year." She whooped and pulled out a red-capped bottle bedecked with red and white stripes. "Finally, someone got the good peppermint shit! I was getting sick of pumpkin spice." She poured creamer into the mug until the coffee swirled from black to as pale as could be while still being called coffee.

Loki didn't bother to hide his disgust at Darcy's fondness for overly-adulterated coffee. "And what is Bowie and Bing?"

"Either the greatest recording of a Christmas classic or a gigantic travesty, depending on who you ask." Darcy propped herself up on her elbows opposite Loki. "And JARVIS was pretty happy to play it as Tony's alarm clock this morning. I think he's a David Bowie fan." She gestured at the book in Loki's other hand. "Whatcha reading?"

"Just something light," Loki said as he tried to twist the book away from view.

Too late. "Eight Days of Luke? You vain son of a bitch!" Darcy's face broke into a wide grin. "I guess I'm more surprised that you're reading a kid's book."

"I wouldn't call it vanity."

"The title character is literally you."

"A misinterpretation, I assure you." Loki was beginning to flush slightly.

Darcy waved a finger at him. "The only difference I see is the hair color." She stood up and took her coffee mug. "By the way, JARVIS told me that you're the only one who hasn't opened their Secret Santa message."

"You are certainly on friendlier terms with Stark's AI than Stark himself," Loki muttered.

"C'mon, grumpypants." Darcy turned her head before pressing the elevator's down button. "Besides, if you don't participate, then someone's not getting a gift this year and you'll make them sad."

"A small price to pay," Loki replied witheringly.

"Cooperating with everyone else might make your life around here easier, you know," Darcy called out. The elevator doors glided shut.

Loki sighed in exasperation. He pressed the button on the wristband that Stark had locked to his person (claiming it was simply to make his life in the Avengers headquarters easier) and was greeted with JARVIS' measured tones. "How can I be of assistance?"

Loki sighed again, this time in resignation. "What is this Secret Santa nonsense, and how have I been forced to participate?"

"I used an algorithm to randomly assign gift recipients to their gift givers which, as the name implies, must remain secret," JARVIS replied. "Traditionally, these pairs remain secret until a preordained day, which Miss Lewis has requested be Christmas Day. However, gifts are usually given before this day."

"And who must I suffer giving secret gifts to?"

"Darcy Lewis."

 **Suddenly it's Christmas, the longest holiday. The season is upon us. A pox! It won't go away!**  

Darcy hummed to herself as she hung tinsel on the gigantic tree installed on the floor that served as a sort of grown-up rec room and common area, complete with a fully stocked bar. She'd been turning her Secret Santa assignment over in her head. Well, if she could call it an assignment. She may or may not have conspired with JARVIS to tweak the algorithm just a bit in her favor, and now as she went looking for a stepladder to get tinsel on the highest branches of the tree, she contemplated the wealth of possibilities before her in giving a Christmas gift to Loki.

Normally, Darcy wasn't one to approach getting what she wanted with any degree of secrecy or subtlety. Her last few Tinder hookups had been the result of her matter-of-fact demands for a good fuck, and with her rather valuable physical assets, it wasn't hard to have those demands met. Swiping right had grown so _boring_ , though, and she knew she needed a fresh challenge. A trickster demigod was an ambitious goal, yes, but Darcy rather liked taking on the impossible.

Now, as she snapped the stepladder in place and clambered up to continue her decorating efforts, she began to wonder at how to best approach this challenge she'd set for herself. Her original idea of another book referencing the Norse pantheon was now right out, after the conversation from the week before. Clothing was too pedestrian. Actually, even the book idea was starting to seem pedestrian. She frowned. Perhaps, like Icarus, she'd gotten a tad overconfident. She stepped up to the very top of the ladder and rose to her tiptoes to get as much shiny stuff on the last few inches of the tree.

"How did you get that tree up here?"

Darcy yelped and came crashing down from the stepladder. "Jesus!"

"I'm afraid not." Loki gazed up at the tree. "You are awfully fond of this holiday, aren't you?"

Darcy pushed back up to standing, rubbing her rear all the while. "Only the worst people hate Christmas." She pulled tinsel from her hair. "Wouldn't you be into it, being a trickster type?"

"I'm not sure I follow."

"The Lord of Misrule." Darcy flung the tinsel she'd pulled from her hair in the vague direction of the quite spangly tree. "Really old tradition where everything is flipped upside-down, peasants rule nobles, stuff like that."

"Rather outside the Asgardian tradition." Loki crossed his arms and didn't take his eyes from the massive tree. "I'm still curious about the logistics of putting a tree like this on the top floor of this tower."

"I ask Tony and he makes it happen." Darcy stuck her hands in her back pockets and rocked back and forth on her feet during the silence that followed her answer. "So, uh." She bit her lip. "What's the Asgard tradition?"

"Jól," said Loki. He finally looked at Darcy. "You, ah..." He motioned to Darcy's hair.

"Still?" Darcy ran her hands over her hair and came up with nothing. Loki walked the few steps needed to close the space between the two of them. He plucked a piece of tinsel from somewhere near Darcy's ear.

Darcy's eyes widened and she nearly fell on her ass again in her hurry to move backward from Loki. "So, uh, Yule?"

"Jól." Loki crossed his arms. "I suppose it was Anglicized into Yule, though. But it used to be two months long and celebrated several gods, rather than just the one."

Darcy nodded. "So you should totally want to celebrate all month long, right?"

"It was never so garish on Asgard. And not a single drummer boy in sight." Loki made a face. "I admit I was curious about the song and had JARVIS play it for me. It really is quite dreadful."

"And unavoidable." Darcy pulled her phone from her pocket and waggled it at Loki. "I have three versions alone on my Christmas playlist."

Loki cocked his head quizzically. "So you aren't trying to win Stark's wager?"

Darcy shrugged and tilted her head in the same direction as Loki's. "I just like sowing chaos."

"A lady of misrule, as it were." Loki's mouth quirked in a small smile.

Darcy was very thankful in this moment that she was never much of a blusher. "Guess so." Her phone began to buzz. "Oh. Right. I do have a day job, still." She gave Loki a wide berth on her way to the door. "Don't forget. Secret Santa." She allowed herself a grin once her back was to Loki.

 **Mix margaritas when the eggnog's gone.**  

By mid-December, nearly every resident of the Tower had received a Secret Santa gift. All but two.

Darcy tried to reassure herself of her plan, even though she hadn't gotten very far in formulating it beyond "blow Loki's mind with an amazing gift that will make him want to bang." She was starting to seriously contemplate a more intangible gift, less about blowing his mind and more about blowing... other things. It was too easy, though, and she wanted to be a challenge as much as Loki was one for her.

In the meantime, she had a carton of eggnog and a bottle of bourbon to help her think it over. She poured a liberal glug of booze into a rocks glass, topped it off with nog, and after a moment's consideration raided the spice cabinet for nutmeg to sprinkle on top. Libation in hand, she turned back to the sheet of slice-and-bake cookies she'd just pulled from the oven. "Merry Christmas to me." She popped a cookie into her mouth. She suddenly waved her hands and downed the boozy nog. "Fuck! Fuck! Hot! Hot!"

"It astounds me how you people can know the outcome of an action, even if it's a poor one, and still proceed with the same action." Loki's smug, smooth voice seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"Do you practice being so annoying, or does it just come naturally?" Darcy poured another drink for herself and proceeded to pour one for Loki. She shoved it across the wide kitchen island.

Loki sniffed experimentally at the drink and took a small sip. He raised his eyebrows. "I've had worse." He took another sip. "And to answer your question, I was simply asking. Annoyance is in the eye of the beholder."

Darcy rolled her eyes and knocked her second drink back. "Whatever."

Loki kept his sips of eggnog small. "Careful with the drinks, there."

"Please, Darcy, don't get drunk this Christmas," Darcy sang as she went for another heavy pour of bourbon. "Tis the season to be jolly, Loki. And bourbon---" She raised the glass in a toast. "Bourbon makes me _very_  jolly."

A dozen cookies and a couple rounds later, Darcy was ready to stumble to the fridge for more eggnog. She found herself stumbling into Loki instead. "Do pardon me," she said in a fair imitation of Loki's highbrow enunciation. She patted his arm. "You feel stronger than you look."

Loki found himself awkwardly patting Darcy's back. "You look and feel quite drunk."

Darcy mumbled something into Loki's chest in response.

"I'm sorry?"

Darcy pulled her face free. "What's a god like you doing wearing a sweater like this? Or a sweater at all?"

Loki frowned and gave the cuff of the dark gray pullover sweater a tug. "Would you rather I walk around in full Asgardian garb?"

Darcy finally disentangled herself from Loki's uncertain grasp. "I would rather you walk around in nothing at all." She pulled a face. "Ugh. Bourbon makes me jolly _and_  truthful." She completed her delayed journey to the fridge. "Who the hell only buys one carton of eggnog at a time in the month of December?" She pulled a half-empty bottle of sour mix from the back of the fridge. "Better beat it, Laufeyson, because bourbon makes me truthful but tequila makes me emotional."

"I think you had better drink some water first." Loki found himself uncomfortable but, oddly, aroused. He chastised himself and went looking for the biggest glass he could find to fill with water. "Perhaps avoid the hangover that awaits if you continue."

Darcy took the water and pointed at the band that showed on Loki's wrist. "Santa give you a Fitbit for Christmas?"

"I believe this is Stark's version of a house arrest bracelet," Loki said, not a little bitterly. He finally finished his first drink and poured a little straight bourbon into the empty glass. "I've yet to receive any real gifts, or even any real decency." He paused and stared at the amber liquid in the glass, gone cloudy with the remnants of eggnog. "Well, with the exception of you, Darcy."

Darcy nearly spit out the last of her water. "I what?" It registered in her mind that this was the first time Loki had ever used her name. She rather liked how it sounded. "I'm not decent to anyone."

"Precisely." Loki was still staring into his glass. He took a meditative sip. "You treat me like you treat everyone else." He finally looked up and his gaze, gone serious, bored into Darcy.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yeah, well... why wouldn't I?"

"I'm still trying to puzzle it out." Loki hadn't looked away from Darcy.

Darcy stood. "Well, while you figure it out, I'm gonna go, uh, sober up. Or something."

Loki's gaze finally broke away. "An excellent idea," he said as he drained his bourbon.

**Loved me so naughty, made me weak in the knees.**

Christmas Eve was uncharacteristically quiet in Stark Tower. Call it superstition, call it childhood habits, but most everyone had gone to bed at a decent hour as snow started to softly tap against the windows.

Darcy stared at the shimmering tree on the top floor. The only light came from those wrapped around the tree and bathed everything in a soft glow. She clutched a mug of hot chocolate, liberally spiked with peppermint schnapps, and looked toward the ceiling at the bundle of mistletoe she'd hung in preparation for the party tomorrow night. She heard a rustling behind her. "Dammit, Loki, I know you're there," she said, and took a sip of her cocoa.

Loki moved to stand beside Darcy. "You know, when it's this quiet, I can almost see the appeal of the holiday again." He followed Darcy's gaze upward. "I haven't seen mistletoe since... well..."

Darcy felt like every nerve ending in her body was vibrating. "Since when?"

"There was an incident." Loki let out a soft laugh. "Thor can tell you that I'm not allowed around mistletoe anymore on Asgard."

Darcy couldn't stand it any longer. She sat her mug on the coffee table nearby and turned back to face Loki. "Don't tell me they've got different mistletoe traditions on Asgard, too."

That serious gaze of Loki's was leveled back on Darcy. "Different history, but it has some of the same meanings in the end," he murmured.

Darcy reached up and pulled Loki's face down to hers. Her eyes were screwed shut but she still found his mouth with hers, instinctively, and wasted no time in tracing Loki's lower lip with her tongue. His lips parted and Darcy found herself practically crushing against him with a need she didn't know was there.

He wasn't called Silvertongue for nothing. Darcy thought she'd pretty thoroughly explored all the ways in which one can jam their tongue into someone's mouth, but the patient deliberation with which Loki kissed Darcy was a far cry from the sloppy urgency she was used to. When he gave her lower lip a soft bite, she thought she might faint. Darcy pulled back to catch her breath. "I still haven't gotten you anything," she said.

In the soft light of the tree, Loki went from fairly attractive to goddamn magical. He smiled at Darcy, leaned forward, and whispered in her ear. "You're terrible at keeping secrets."

Darcy shoved him in the chest. "You jackass! You're supposed to say something about how I'm all you really wanted!"

Loki looked like he was fighting back laughter. "A romantic, are we?"

Darcy put on her best pout. "I just wanted to be off the hook on trying to give a gift to a freaking god."

Loki took Darcy by the waist and drew her back to him. His hands began to slide up underneath her shirt and Darcy arched her back sharply. She pushed back again. "How long?" she demanded.

Loki groaned in frustration. "What now?"

"How long have you wanted to do this?"

Loki began to push Darcy toward the nearest couch. "Long enough that if you continue to make me wait, I'll leave you wanting out of spite."

Darcy took him by surprise when she pulled around and used her momentum (and his shock) to push him down to a seated position. She straddled him, enjoying the feeling of finally looking down on Loki rather than having to look up at him. "Good enough."

This time, she didn't stop Loki from lifting her (corny, ugly-sweater-patterned) t-shirt over her head. She thanked her lucky stars that she'd thought to put on her one fancy, lacy bra today. She fumbled a bit with the buttons on Loki's shirt, which he didn't seem too keen on helping her out with. No, he was a bit more focused on turning his lips' attention from Darcy's mouth to the line of her collarbone, trailing soft bites along the way. Darcy moaned in spite of herself and began grinding her hips.

As Darcy had observed some days before, Loki was in fact much stronger than he looked. He wrapped arm around Darcy's back and cupped her ass with the other and lifted, twisting around and somehow gracefully laying her down.

Darcy was still working on buttons - why were buttons a thing? and why were they always so hard to undo from the opposite direction? - when Loki grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. "Stay still," he said.

Darcy went right back to unbuttoning Loki's shirt and then his pants as soon as he let go of her wrists. With astonishing speed, Loki caught her hands again and put them back above her head. "I said to be still," he murmured, and his voice had an edge to it that sent a genuine shiver down Darcy's spine. This time, she obeyed.

Loki moved tortuously slow. He unclasped Darcy's bra and pulled it up and over Darcy's arms, his steady gaze daring her to move. When she didn't, he smirked, and Darcy bit her lip. He resumed his steady descent along Darcy's throat, then the slope of her chest, and finally lazily circled his tongue around her left nipple while just barely stroking her right with his thumb. His left hand slid down Darcy's torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and deftly unbuttoned her jeans.

"Fuck," whispered Darcy as Loki's fingers dipped below the waistband of her underwear (also lacy, and miraculously matched the bra, which she dimly recalled even as most other rational thought was starting to slip from her grasp).

Loki laughed, a low humming sound against Darcy's breast. "Not yet," he said.

Darcy felt Loki's gentle ministrations stop for a moment and she lifted her head. "Hey, what the---" She choked back her latest profanity when she felt a nibble along her inner thigh. Loki's eyes met hers, and she could swear he was smirking, even though she soon couldn't see much more than his eyes as his tongue began to tease her opening.

If Loki had been masterful at the simple act of kissing, he goddamn well must have invented the art of cunnilingus. He licked, teased, and stroked every part save the one Darcy craved his tongue on the most, and after several minutes of Darcy's panting through her obedient stillness, Loki drew back ever so slightly. "You may move now, if you wish."

In an instant, Darcy's fingers were buried in the hair at the back of Loki's head. She bucked against his mouth, and he took hold of her hips and finally brought his lips to the bud that might as well have been throbbing with denied pleasure. He circled it with his tongue, and Darcy's hissing groan would have been enough to make him come had he not had the presence of mind to hold out just a little longer. He continued to stroke, occasionally just barely sucking, and Darcy's whispered invectives soon turned to incomprehensible syllables as her breaths came quicker and higher pitched.

Suddenly, Darcy's fingers in Loki's hair tightened, and her whispers became a quiet yelp. "Fuck, Loki. _Loki._ " Her back arched up and for a few seconds that stretched into eternity she swore that she saw stars. Of course, those could have also been the lights just beyond her head.

She loosened her grip. Loki slowly sat up and pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket. He dabbed at his chin, then offered it to Darcy. "I would say that's your gift taken care of."

Darcy burst into giggles in spite of herself. "You... you _asshole._  Fuck you very much."

"Is that a promise? I have been rather good this year."

Darcy snorted and reached for her bra. "I'd call what you just did a great big tally on the naughty column." She tugged her clothes back on, noticing that she'd not made much work of Loki's state of dress and that he had already collected himself fully. "But I think Santa can work with it." She pointed at his wrist. "Who knows, maybe Santa can even figure out a way to disable that thing." "

This Santa of yours must be quite the powerful deity."

"Don't say that too loudly in mixed company." Darcy picked up her cocoa, now gone quite cold, and drained it. Couldn't let good booze go to waste. "Merry Christmas, Loki." She stood to go.

Loki caught Darcy's wrist. "I wasn't finished with your gift, Darcy."

Darcy tried her best to not grin foolishly. "Maybe take me to your room and show me the rest, then?"

**Her name's on my tongue, and her blood's in my stream.**

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics, in order:
> 
> "Peace On Earth/Little Drummer Boy" by Bing Crosby and David Bowie  
> "Suddenly It's Christmas" by Loudon Wainwright III  
> "Merry Christmas from the Family" by Robert Earl Keen  
> (Darcy singing about getting drunk this Christmas is a reference to John Denver's "Please Daddy Don't Get Drunk This Christmas.")  
> "River" by Joni Mitchell  
> "Christmas In Prison" by John Prine


End file.
